The Seachangers

Chapter 26

26

Ruth

Hamish appeared well after three on Wednesday afternoon. Allie had long gone and the cafe was almost empty. He took one look at me and said, ‘Please don’t tell me you’re driving to Adelaide this evening.’

‘I hardly slept so, no, I won’t go tonight.’ I felt on the verge of tears. It’d been like that all day. I’d be okay one minute and have tears welling the next. I ducked down and finished restocking the milk fridge to give myself a steadying minute. Getting through the day had taken every ounce of energy and determination I possessed. Deciding not to open the cafe tomorrow was a sound decision—I needed to be with Elliot. I’d already posted a notice in the window. ‘Do you want me to make you a coffee?’

‘No, thanks. I’m here because Laurie’s at the dentist.’

‘I thought his appointment was next week.’

‘A cancellation. They called him when he was helping me with the tank and I told him to take it, that I’d do the chairs and the floor.’

‘Right. I can manage if you have other things to do.’

‘Ruth, just say “Thank you, Hamish”. And later I’m going to make you an early dinner because I’ll bet that you haven’t eaten a decent meal for days. And although I don’t cook per se, I’m a dab hand with a steak, potatoes and a barbecue plate.’

‘There’s a barbecue at your dad’s? I didn’t notice it.’

‘It’s nothing flash. I found it in the shed and bought a gas bottle at the hardware.’

‘Shall I bring a salad? And what time?’

‘Whenever you’re ready and a salad would be … healthy.’

‘Wine?’

‘You decide. I’ll lock the door, turn the sign around and start on the chairs. Have you wiped down the tables?’

‘No, let me do that first. And Hamish—’

Already halfway to the front door, he stopped and turned around, raised his eyebrows.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

After I’d finished up in the cafe and before I left for Hamish’s place with the salad and a bottle of red, I packed a bag ready for the morning. It’d be the last thing I’d feel like doing after a glass or two of red wine and I wanted to be away early. Robert had been a traditionalist, so I chose a black summer-weight wool jersey dress and heels for the service. A colourful scarf to add a touch of brightness to the sombre outfit. I hung the dress in the bathroom to air overnight. I’d worn it last when Mum’s only surviving sibling had passed away. Aunty Del had been eighty-nine. My funeral dress.

Hamish had instructed me earlier to message when I left home and he’d start the food. Hence the mouthwatering smell of barbecuing meat drifted down the driveway when I turned in the gate. The rainwater tank was gone and a pile of rubble was all that remained of the stand. I paused to ponder the stone wall where the ivy had climbed. It was a lighter colour to the remaining walls.

Hamish appeared while I pondered. ‘It’ll weather up and be the same as the rest of the place in no time,’ he said. He reached for the insulated bag I was carrying. ‘Bloody hell, Ruth, what have you got in here?’

‘It’s the glass salad bowl, one of Mum’s, and it’s heavy … along with the bottle of wine.’

He wouldn’t have me do anything and was such undemanding company I felt myself relax for the first time since that dreadful phone call last Friday. Our conversation was sporadic and limited to comments about the food and the weather, which seemed to suit us both. The meal was delicious, the steak perfect. By eight o’clock I was nicely mellow and yawning widely.

He said, ‘Go home and go to bed, Ruth.’ He offered to drive me but it was still daylight so I walked, the insulated bag much lighter on the return journey. ‘All the best for Friday,’ he’d said when he’d waved me off at the front gate. I just wanted it to be over.

* * *

The service was well scripted, very Robert and Lana, and after the requisite tea and bikkies, immediate family traipsed out to Robert and Lana’s place in the foothills. Although not to my taste, it was a beautiful home and Lana was a gracious host. My understanding was that Lana had brought a fair share of wealth to her union with Robert. How Corrine felt being in her ex-husband’s home was anyone’s guess. She still lived in the three-bedroom brick-veneer in the western suburbs she and Robert had bought in the first year of their marriage. The children had grown up there.

Much to my dismay, Elliot partook readily of Robert’s extensive liqueur cabinet and drank himself into a stupor well before the sun was even close to going down.

‘I’m sorry, Ruth, but I can’t stay with him tonight,’ Oliver said after we’d manhandled my drunken brother into the passenger seat of my car. ‘My flight’s early tomorrow morning and I want to spend tonight at Mum’s with Charlotte.’

‘Totally understandable. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, Oliver. Don’t give it another thought,’ I said. I gave him a hug. ‘It’s been terrific to see you, I’m just so damn sorry about the circumstances.’

‘Me too,’ Oliver said. ‘I don’t think it’s hit me yet that my dad’s dead. I’ll probably fall in a heap when I get home.’

Elliot was belted in and snoring, oblivious to everyone and everything. That being his primary objective, I assumed. I slammed the passenger-side door much harder than necessary.

‘How will you manage him at the other end?’ Corrine said from behind me.

I swung around in surprise. ‘Fair question. His neighbour’s son is a strapping young lad. If he’s home, I’ll ask him to help. Otherwise, Elliot can sleep it off in the car. At least until I need the car to drive myself home so I can open the cafe in the morning.’

‘Take him to my place,’ Corrine said and I didn’t miss Oliver’s surprised gasp. ‘He can sleep it off there.’

‘Thanks, but I wouldn’t do that. You enjoy your evening with Oliver and Charlotte.’

Lana came down the steps holding out a large empty ice-cream container, along with its lid. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘You might need it.’ I had the feeling she’d done this many times before, only it would have been Robert taking Elliot home.

‘I’ll kill him if he spews in my car,’ I said baldly. Lana winced. I opened the car door and thrust the container onto Elliot’s lap. ‘Hold that,’ I said. He pushed away the container and mumbled something. I closed the door again. ‘Do you know what? I’ve just had a brilliant idea. I’ll take him home with me. I have a spare room and he has stayed with me once before.’

Corrine laughed. ‘Go, you! You’ve always been the one with the most spunk, Ruth. Robert could be a pedant and Elliot is a lush, a nice bloke but a lush nevertheless. Totally get why Gloria left him and Stacey moved to far north Queensland.’

‘Mum,’ Oliver said through gritted teeth. ‘I think we should leave. Now.’

Lana stood by silently, her arms folded as if she was hugging herself tightly. I wondered if she was thinking about the unfairness of it all; that the wrong brother had died. She was taken aback when I reached out and hugged her.

‘Take care,’ I said.

‘You too, Ruth,’ she answered quietly. ‘Robert helped Elliot temper his excesses. The poor man’s on his own now.’

‘So are you.’

‘Not in the same way, Ruth. I have friends, family and lots of outside interests. Elliot had Robert.’

Lana stepped back and Corrine hugged me. ‘Bye, love. Keep in touch.’ She opened the car door for me. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘When will you bring him back?’

‘After the weekend. The cafe’s closed on Monday and I have Tuesday off.’

She nodded. I started the car and reversed out of the driveway.

Elliot rallied momentarily. ‘Where the hell are we?’ he said.

‘On the way home,’ I said. Not a big lie.

He grunted and went back to sleep.

The sun set as we hit the motorway, a fiery ball swallowed by the sea. Elliot snored and snuffled in the seat beside me, drool dribbling down his chin. We’d stopped by his townhouse and he’d slept in the car, oblivious, while I’d thrown a few clothes into a suitcase for him and grabbed my own overnight bag. I didn’t bother to change clothes or wake him to see if he needed the bathroom. But I had checked that the gas was turned off and the rubbish bin in the kitchen was empty.

The kilometres flashed past and I kept glancing sideways at my sleeping brother. When had he become such a drunk? Since he’d retired? He’d always liked a drink but I’d assumed he knew when to stop. Apparently not. And my read of the earlier situation was that no-one was putting up their hand to take Robert’s place in keeping his twin on the straight and narrow. That left me.

I couldn’t think about it just now. System overload.

We were soon at Port Wakefield and I followed the signs to a public toilet. Elliot fought against being prodded awake. Somehow I managed to get him out of the car, but the nearest bush was as good as it got. He dribbled urine all down the front of his underpants and trousers. I wanted to cry and then shake him until his teeth rattled. He fell into the car seat, mumbling. I buckled him in. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ I said, but he didn’t answer me. I left him in the car and dashed in to get myself one at the first service station I came to.

Never had I been more glad to see the twinkling lights of Cutlers Bay. Leaving him in the car, I unlocked the flat and turned on every light. I shook him awake, not as gently as I could have, and he appeared more with it than he had been at Port Wakefield. I wondered what had happened to his suit jacket and tie. Probably still at Lana’s place.

‘Elliot, we’re home. At my place.’

‘What the—’ he said and looked around blinking blearily.

‘You were too drunk to leave on your own and I had to come home. I’ll take you back on Sunday or Monday. Plenty of time to sober up and give your liver a break. Now, can you please get out of the car and we’ll go inside. You can have a shower and go to bed.’ My patience was gossamer thin.

After several false starts, he managed to lever himself out of the car seat. I carried our bags inside and took his through to the spare room. It all went swimmingly until the shower. He didn’t want one but there was no way he was getting into the clean sheets on my spare bed reeking of urine. With my help, he managed to undress and get into the shower. He was a head taller than me and probably weighed at least thirty kilos more than I did, so it wasn’t easy. Who’d be a nurse or a carer? I set the water going and then hovered outside the open bathroom door talking to him every minute or so. He’d grumble something in return, until he didn’t and then I heard a splashy, slapping sound followed by a grunt. When I ripped open the shower curtain he was slumped on the floor in the shower recess, snoring. That’s right, snoring, with tepid water drumming down onto him. Tempted to leave him there until the water went cold, I turned off the shower but couldn’t rouse him enough to get him up. When I shook him he told me to go away, but not as politely as that. By now I was in tears. I threw two towels at him, hunted out my phone and rang Hamish.

‘Ruth,’ he said after the second ring. It was late and I was so relieved he wasn’t asleep.

‘I need your help,’ I said and choked back a sob.

‘Where are you?’

‘Home. Come down the lane behind the cafe.’

‘I’ll be there in five,’ he said and he was.

I met him at the door.

‘What’s up?’

‘Follow me.’ I led him through the living area to the bathroom. ‘Hamish, meet Elliot, my brother. I can’t get him up.’

‘Is he sick?’

‘Drunk.’

‘Did he fall?

‘No, I don’t think so, he just kind of slid down the tiles.’

Hamish didn’t ask questions, simply said in an authoritative voice, ‘Elliot, mate, you need to get up before you freeze your balls off.’

Remarkably, my brother opened his eyes and focussed on Hamish, but not without difficulty. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Hamish Adams, a friend of Ruth’s. I’m here to help you up and get you to bed.’

Elliot swore and tried ineffectually to sit up. ‘Where’s my sister?’

I peered around Hamish. ‘I’m here, Elliot. Now will you please let Hamish help you? It’s late and I need to be up early.’

‘All right, all right,’ he said and slithered around the shower recess. I’d never unsee that image.

‘What’s say we dry you off first,’ Hamish said and proceeded to do just that.

‘His pyjamas are on the hand basin. I’ll go and see to the spare bed,’ I said and sped off without waiting for a response from either man. I grabbed an extra pillow from the linen press and was folding back the top sheet and doona when Hamish guided Elliot through the bedroom door.

Together we settled him into bed. I’d put Lana’s ice-cream container on the floor beside the bed and I pointed it out to Elliot.

‘Do you want a cup of tea? Glass of water?’

‘Water, thanks,’ he said, abashed. He looked dreadful. My heart squeezed with love and despair.

He was asleep when I went back with a bottle of water—I didn’t trust him with a glass. I put it on the bedside cupboard and turned off the light.

Hamish had tidied the bathroom and hung the towels outside on the clothesline.

‘Thanks,’ I said, heartfelt, when he came back inside. ‘Do you want a cup of tea? Beer? Cold water?’

‘Tea would be good, if you’re up for it. What happened?’

I filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘One or six too many at the wake. He lives by himself and I had to come home and there was no-one to stay with him so I brought him with me. I’ll take him back after the weekend.’

Hamish propped himself against the kitchen cupboard and watched as I made the tea.

‘Milk?’

‘Just a dash. No sugar. Is he always a big drinker?’

‘Worse than I thought. Robert’s wife is concerned about him. Her words went something like, “Robert tempered Elliot’s excesses”. And Robert’s not here anymore.’

‘I see.’

We stood in the kitchen and drank our tea. ‘Thank you so much, Hamish,’ I said. I was embarrassed for my brother and for myself.

‘Think nothing of it. Not the first time I’ve helped put a drunk to bed.’

‘Oh. And has anyone ever had to help put you to bed?’

‘Nope. I like a beer as much as the next bloke but I haven’t been legless since I was a teenager. Don’t see any point to it.’

‘I enjoy a wine or three on occasion, as you might have guessed. But I don’t enjoy feeling seedy the next day. I don’t have time for it.’

Hamish left after he’d finished his tea. ‘I’ll come in for breakfast tomorrow,’ he said. ‘See you then.’

‘Okay. Goodnight and thank you again.’

‘You’re very welcome, Ruth. I’m glad you called me and didn’t try to get him up on your own.’

I locked the door and turned off the outside lights. It was almost eleven and all I wanted to do was crash. I’d be up again at five. Before I went to bed, I checked on Elliot. He was dead to the world and his sleep appeared more peaceful.

I left the lamp on in the living area and closed my door. Exhausted, physically and emotionally, I immediately fell asleep.